


My Funny Valentine

by SteppinOut87



Category: Who's the Boss?
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteppinOut87/pseuds/SteppinOut87
Summary: Inspired by "Jonathan Plays Cupid" and my love of analog - specifically mid-century holiday cards and vinyl albums - I pondered how Tony might have made Angela's Valentine's Day in 1986 a little more special especially since by this point, there is definitely mutual affection and adoration. Written in first person, from Angela's POV.
Relationships: Angela Bower/Tony Micelli
Kudos: 7





	My Funny Valentine

The sun streams into my bedroom slowly waking me from my sleep. As I roll over and look at my clock, I notice something on the floor. Weary and brushing sleep from eyes, I hobble out of bed and pick up a little card. My name is hand-written in penmanship across the front of the envelope. What could this be?

I flip it over, curiously looking for clues as I slide my finger under the flap and gently open the card and peer inside. What is this? A smile creeps across my face. I gingerly pull out...a little kid Valentine?

No. It's...oh wow! It's a small and gorgeous vintage Valentine, like the kind sweethearts might have given each other 30-40 years ago. Oh my goodness. I love old cards! There is something so incredibly romantic about a vintage card: The weight of the paper, the illustrations from a time gone by, the typography, the saturation of the color printing. I may be on the strategic side of a creative business but I adore the visual and artistic side just as much and this sort of thing thrills me!

I flip the little Valentine over and there in cursive among the inscription, I read, "To Angela, Yours, Tony."

My heart does flip flops.

What could this mean? What could this mean after our dinner at Shea Rene last night? Or his comment about me looking cute in my pink robe? Or, thinking back to when his friends were here a few weeks ago, playing poker, and how he surprised me telling me I was great and they loved me, and the "What's not to love?" compliment. And the way he looked at me when he said it.

I walk to the bathroom, thoughts running through my head.

Last night is still fresh in my mind and my face turns bright red remembering it. We went to Shea Rene thinking we were meeting others only to meet each other. We were both a little arrogant at first, thinking neither would admit to being the other's secret admirer. Despite how it happened, I have to admit, I had a terrific time with Tony. We really looked great together and I feel so comfortable and good around him, whether we are hanging out in the kitchen or thrust into these accidental "dates."

When we arrived home, it all unraveled when we realized "Mr. Bower" was actually Jonathan playing cupid in the hopes that we'd fall in love and marry. He was afraid of losing Tony and thought this special romantic date would mean we'd fall in love and get married. It melted my heart.

I had to explain to him that while Tony and I do indeed love each other, it's as friends. He didn't fully understand and then Sam quipped in with the comment about sex and Jonathan looked at us and asked why we don't just have it already. I almost crawled under the sofa, I was so mortified. I know my face was crimson.

Secretly, I've admired Tony for a while and since we shared that kiss last spring and bunked together at Jonathan's camp this past summer, it's hard to not think about him, about us...If any of them knew...God, if Tony knew how often those thoughts crept into my head, I would die. My face is red right now, even thinking about it.

I know he was caught off guard and embarrassed too, and yet he handled it so perfectly. The words of love and friendship he spoke to my son about their special bond nearly brought me to tears. It's not the first time he's surprised me with his love for us. And I mean that for me too. He's always thinking about me. Even now with this sweet card. He'd surprised me earlier this week with a box of chocolates and homemade brownies, both my favorites. He's always surprising me with sweet gestures, so this card maybe simply be Tony being Tony.

Or maybe he picked up on the little wave of envy that washed over me the other day while watching Mother and Samantha sort through their multiple Valentine cards? I'm happy for them, I am, and I'm also envious and in awe of how easy it is for them to attract the attention and the gifts of so many male admirers. I was always so awkward at Sam's age. The boys I liked didn't see me. And now? The men are intimidated by me and my career and/or ultimately put off because of my baggage.

I exhale. I'm overwhelmed and confused. Maybe I shouldn't think too hard about it all. I know our relationship is complicated and confusing.

I shower and the warm water does wonders to soothe my racing mind. Still, even as I dress and head downstairs to start my work day, the overwhelm from last night and now this sweet gesture hasn't fully left me. I'm a bit nervous at seeing Tony this morning. At the bottom of the steps on the banister is another little card. I look around the living room and scattered throughout are a handful of little cards, all with my name on them.

My sense of overwhelm intensifies. It's no longer nerves and embarrassment over last night's sex conversation. I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude. I open the door to the kitchen. Juice and coffee greet me as do a gorgeous bouquet of pink roses and...another little card with my name on it. I stop in my tracks. I look up at see him turn around and his chocolate brown eyes meet mine and he looks...nervous? I stare at him in disbelief.

"What's all this?" I ask.

"Open them," he says, shyly.

Our eyes haven't left each other's. After what feels like forever, I look down and reach for a card and open it. It's another sweet vintage card. So is the next and the next.

"I...These are..." I don't get much further because my eyes are welling up with tears.

"Oh, hey, Angela, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," he says softly and with a smile. He takes his thumb to my face and wipes away my tears. I take a moment and compose myself.

"Tony, the flowers...all these gorgeous vintage cards...I didn't expect this. They are all so beautiful. How did you know I love vintage cards? I adore them and the the pink roses are my favorite. Thank you," I say. My heart is exploding in front of this man and I hope my words capture the depth of my gratitude and joy.

"You're welcome," he says, his voice a little gruff. "I wanted to give these to you yesterday, but then we got caught up with our dinner plans and the the subsequent conversation..." He trails off a bit. We both blush and look away. "Well," he continues, with a bit more composure and bravado, and a few flicks of his hands as only Italians can talk, "I wanted you to have the best cards and the most cards! And chocolate and flowers! Anyway, you deserve it! And now you beat Sam and Mona with the number of cards!"

We both laugh out loud and it cuts the tension a bit.

He looks away and continues with a bit more confidence, "And look, I know I didn't ask you out last night, and it wasn't, _you know_ , a _real date_ or anything, and I made that crack about having had better dates but..." His voice lowers and he looks at me with those big brown puppy eyes, and continues, "It was the best date I've had in a long time. You looked fantastic and...I really enjoyed being with you."

He can be so tough and so tender all at once. It takes my breath away.

I smile and gaze at him and meet him in that vulnerable place. "Well...it was the best date I've had in a long time too." I look down at the cards and the roses and then back at him. "Tony, this is all perfect."

"So does this mean you'll be my Valentine?" he asks me with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

"Of course."

"Good. Because before you leave for work, I have one more surprise for you!" He takes my hand and leads me back into the living room.

"What?! What are you doing? Where are we going?"

"Right here." We're directly in front of the media console and turntable. He lifts the needle, drops it on the record, takes my hand, and pulls me close just as Sinatra croons, "My Funny Valentine."

I giggle. This song, while being a classic, is quite literally funny. We both adore these old albums though, and he adores Frank. He leads and I follow.

_"But don't change a hair for me, not if you care for me. Stay little Valentine, stay. Each day is Valentine's Day."_ he sings softly into my ear.

I rest my head on his shoulder and we dance to the entire song.

When it ends, he pulls back and our eyes meet. He gives me a shy smile. "Happy Valentine's Day, Angela."

I pause, still holding his gaze, then lean in and kiss him softly on the cheek. He's surprised and his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. "Happy Valentine's Day, Tony."


End file.
